In Arduis Fidelis
by Neko-wa
Summary: After Sherlock's death John misses him so much. He decides to make a decision that changes everything in his life. This is his last blog entry. It brings feels, you've been warned. Also posted few days ago on AO3.


_What is a soul mate?_  
_It's like a best friend but more._  
_It's that one person that knows you better than anyone else._  
_Someone who makes you a better person, actually... they don't make u a better person, you do that yourself. They inspire you._  
_A soul mate is someone who you carry with you forever._  
_The person who knew you and accepted you, before anyone else did._  
_Or when no one else would._  
_And no matter what happens, you will always love them. And nothing could ever change that._

Lilly's question for Dawson (Dawson's Creek, Season Finale)

In Arduis Fidelis

When we met for the first time, you immediately knew everything about me: where I had been an hour before, how much had they paid me, that I had been looking for a flat mate. You were such an eccentric human... Like no one living Earth. Sometimes even I used to think that "human" wasn't an appropriate word. Sherlock Holmes – world's only consulting detective and the only exception from the definition of "humanity".

During the very first week of living together, I discovered, it's totally stupid, you actually have some kind of human feelings and you don't care only of yourself. It was a day of my very first bad dream at 221B Baker Street. I dreamed about Afghanistan, about Murray who was shot by Taleb and died almost immediately. I couldn't look at his body after that. He was my best friend and died because I didn't see this fucking Afghan.

You heard me, I'm sure. And you were the first person who actually did something. You climbed this fucking stairs, carrying a glass of water, put it on my bedside table and softly touched my shoulder. That was enough to wake me up. I opened my eyes and saw your worried face. The rest of the night was uneventful. We sat on my bed, not talking, only enjoying quiet.

From this moment I started thinking of being with you as "comforting", "warmth", and "peaceful" time.

My nightmares weren't frequent. But when I had one, you were always with me, carrying a glass of water, softly touching me. And then suddenly it stopped. Until THIS case.

When we came back from the laboratory, everything was worse. And again we were spending nights with no sleep, only sitting on my bed. And then, one time we just kissed each other. This time I had a very bad dream, and spent very long time trembling with no chance to calm myself down. That was the longest time in my life, even longer than this, when Moriarty had changed me into a living bomb.

From this time we always were together. You were home when I came back from surgery; I knew that you are with me when I was going to sleep. I knew that you flip your arm through my chest, that your breath is my lullaby. For the first time in my life I felt complete.

Until now. Because you aren't here anymore. Baker Street is so empty, so strange, without all the laboratory stuff in the kitchen, without the skull put on our mantelpiece. I have not slept in out bed anymore. I cannot go to your bedroom because I'm sure I'm going to have a panic attack.

For me, that was very hard to make this decision. I closed every single thing I could left. I quit my job at Sarah's surgery, I said good-bye to Harriet. I prepared Mrs. Hudson for this (she said she won't rent out flat to anyone).

At last I went to the graveyard. I said exactly the same words that I had said after your funeral. That you thought that you weren't a hero, that, for me, you were best man, the most human-being that I have ever known and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. I said that I was (and still am) so alone and owe you so much. And I cried. I cried like this time, when we became closer. Exactly like this night which was not so long ago.

I knew you don't come back so I decided to join you and be with you forever.

Welcome, Sherlock.

I'm finally coming home...

_In Ardius Fidelis,_

John H. Watson.


End file.
